


She Who Sees Our Sorrows

by Pears_Not_Apples (The_5th_Witch)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fixing Canon, Merlin gets a whole lot more shit thrown at him though, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_5th_Witch/pseuds/Pears_Not_Apples
Summary: In a world where Merlin is not alone in the fight for magical freedom, things may be put right without death or betrayals.Four strangers arrive in Camelot, not long after Merlin has been told of the Seer of Sorrows. Supposedly it is a person with a power almost as impressive as his, but what this seer wants is impossible to tell.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin)/Original Male Character(s), Morgana (Merlin)/Original Female Character(s), Percival (Merlin)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. First, she dreamt

_First, it’s just darkness, empty and void of any warmth. Then, when her body has tensed up and her breath has started to speed up, there’s an eye. Far beneath the lake water's surface, down in the Deeps of Despair, it lies open to never be closed again. Just like the other ones that rest beside it. As the water clears she comes to realise something._

_… it is not only eyes._

_For every two eyes belong to a face and for every face, there is a body and for bodies of that number to lie in those deeps, there must be a cause. As she swallows and keeps her breath in, whilst trying to ignore the ache in her chest, she takes in that whatever the cause might be it is one of great tragedy._

_The bodies are pale, bluish to the tone, and the eyes stare upward with a lack of feeling, one that makes her shiver. Where arrows have hit and swords have slashed through, there is a redness that she hardly wants to see even though worse has been showed to her through the years. It is the missing humanity, she tells herself, the life that should be there. If it exists anything more terrifying than a battlefield full of distress and cries of misery, it is one where not even birds screech._

_The darkness shifts and suddenly the bodies are replaced with ones standing and breathing... and crying. Tears flooding from every eye within sight. Fires in the background, not for heat or celebration, but for mourning. The ground glows red from the blood that has seeped into the soil, damned to only bear the fruit of death forevermore._

_When she tried to reach for the bystanders, the true victims of war, everything changes again. She is not allowed to console the mothers of young sons, assure the widows of loved men, or bring the children of lost fathers into her arms. Their faces stained with tears for all eternity._

_Everything that follows comes in such a hurry that she has no way of taking it all in. Dragons that sweep the skies. Blades that cut through armour as well as through the garbs of farmhands. A dark-haired woman, fairer than any other, falling to the ground by the hands of her former friend. Betrayal and hatred. A distinct absence of magic that makes her uncomfortable. Until she sees what she believes has been the point of everything._

_In the middle of it all stands a man, his eyes glowing gold and his hair dark as the hole in his soul. He sees not what she sees, stays still and stares into nowhere. He too has the marks of misery on his cheeks, the red eyes and the drops of water that still form in the corners of them. There is a magic power coming from him, one and it’s forcing her to take action._

_She moves toward him and places herself so that his power almost touches her. It is strong, untrained and inexperienced, but of more power than she has ever felt before. It makes her see what he is witnessing. A boat, with a fire. Nothing too out of the ordinary, although the man’s expression tells her that there lies a body on that boat as well._

_Everything goes dark again and she is shown only two faces. A woman clad in clothes she could only wish for and man in a knight’s armour. They don’t shed tears, they have already mourned._

_“The king is dead,” the man begins with a voice that doesn’t reveal his true feelings of hopelessness. The woman holds her breath and it is obvious that she has no desire for the power she is about to obtain._

_“Long live the queen.”_


	2. Brianne of the Healing Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... 
> 
> So this is a thing

Brianne wakes with a shock bolting through her, forcing her to sit up in her bed. There's an uneasiness that lies in her chest, as well as a hint of terror. Her breaths go from quick ones, pulsing in the same stressed rhythm as her heart, to painfully slow ones. At one point she's not even sure whether she's actually breathing at all. Whatever it is that she's just seen, she knows that she has to do _something_ about it.

_“Long live the queen.”_

The words echo in her mind. A horrifying pain shoots through her as she remembers. Anyone else would write it off as a dream, or rather a nightmare. Brianne can't. It isn't that she believes it to be real, she _knows_ that it is. 

From a young age, she was taught magic - she's more than familiar with it. She knows that her dreams are not just dreams, that she realised when she was but twelve years old. Nightmares of plague and disease haunted her for two weeks before the sickness reached her village. The snowstorm of the ages taunted her from the beginning of summer until it hit the kingdom in late autumn, marking the start of a period of starvation. 

It went on, and on, and on. She told her father, who reluctantly sent her to her uncle. There she wasn’t taught how to control or banish the dreams but to harness power from them. The visions became her source of magic. They became a part of her. Yet, they’re still more painful than anything she’s ever experienced. 

No other souls know of her powers, her uncle being the only exception, they only see her as the physician of their village. In the lands she is known as “The Lady With Healing Hands” and some rumours have reached even to the other kingdoms. A healer is all that she is to them, though, her secret has never been revealed. 

In the past, she hasn’t been able to do anything to prevent what she has seen. This time is different, she can feel it. She’s meant to help, even if it requires her to venture into a kingdom where her kind is seen as the equivalent of pure evil. 

Brianne, the healer of the sick, is to become a healer of history.

The smithy stinks of sweat and smoke. Brianne hasn't visited the place a lot, she only comes here when she's in need of metal powder for her concoctions. The usual clanking suddenly stops and Brianne looks up to meet the eyes of one of the town's blacksmiths. Or, well, the best of them. 

She's a tall woman with broad shoulders and short, short blonde hair. The other women in the town are often called pretty, but this one is _handsome_. From far away you might mistake her for a man, and close by as well, but she's as handsome as a knight. A strong jawline and a grin that can melt hearts. Brianne has seen the looks she received from both farmhands and farmers' daughters alike. Had they not been childhood friends, she believes, there might have been something between them. Now, though, she just can't see it. 

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that Brianne?" the woman says as she walks closer to where Brianne stands. "Here for yet another batch of iron?"

Brianne smiles and shakes her head. “My good Anver, I'm looking for a sword.”

There is a look of surprise upon the woman’s face as she comprehends what Brianne has just told her. “A sword? For whatever reason would you need a sword?”

The slight humour to her tone is obvious but Brianne chooses to ignore it. “I’ll be travelling all the way to Camelot, so it'll be for protection. I don't wish to rely on any kind of bodyguard and the road is said to be quite dangerous."

Anver sighs and nods. “Camelot? But that is all the way past the mountains, as well as the Woods of Lost Souls. If I'm not entirely wrong, you'll have to cross the perilous lands as well. You will not make it alone.” She says it as if she’s stating facts, telling her of the future, and Brianne supposes that she is. The road from Deira to Camelot is one that most wouldn't ever dream of making. 

“I’m aware, and it pains me to leave but I have no choice." Brianne sighs. She doesn't wish to go but she knows that she has no choice. "Anver, I won’t be coming back for long. I'm leaving the position of physician to Tallia, she's far more than capable.”

A pained expression takes form on the smith’s face. “Do you really want to go alone, with no one else there for you?”

“Of course not, could I do it with someone I trusted, I would. I will not pay anyone for the trouble of escorting me, though.” Brianne understands what her friend means when she questions her, worrying for her safety. There is just no way to avoid going, and the idea of hiring someone to take her to Camelot is not one worth pursuing. 

“I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

Anver laughs. “Did you not hear me? I’ll go with you. You’re a well-known healer, you need protection - someone who is well versed in the art of fighting.”

“What are you saying?” Although Brianne merely is curious what Anver means, the unimpressed stare that she receives makes her realise what the smith is telling her. “Oh. But aren’t you a blacksmith?”

“Dear Brie, I prefer being able to use what I make, so sword-fighting is most definitely on my list of skills.”

Brianne smiles. “You’re right, and you’re welcome to join me, but I leave in two days and I would be glad to have my own sword by then as well.”

“Naturally. I’ll pick one that suits your determination.”


End file.
